


i call and you come through

by fliptomybside



Series: you can hear it in the silence [7]
Category: Dunkirk (2017) RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 01:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13470903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fliptomybside/pseuds/fliptomybside
Summary: harry scrapes his knee. fionn patches him up.





	i call and you come through

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by those photos of Harry in London on that old vintage bike with his phone hanging precariously out of his back pocket and [Em](http://fullstopmgnt.tumblr.com) (as usual). Title from Lorde's The Louvre, unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine, please don't let the real people that this is about see it, etc. etc.

Harry’s muttered swearing wakes Fionn up out of a dead sleep. He contemplates not getting up because it’s Saturday, after all, and it’s been a long week. He can feel the faint edges of a hangover throbbing at his temples, a reminder that he and Tom and Harry maybe overdid it on the red wine the night before. It was a good idea at the time, he thinks groggily, propping himself up on his elbows and reaching blearily for his glasses.

He knocks them over, naturally. His head aches when he leans over to pick them up but it gets him up and he pads into the master bathroom.

Harry’s perched on the toilet, in one of Fionn’s old jumpers and a faded pair of black pants. He’s got one leg folded up against him and a band aid on his knee, angry red skin peeking out from its edges. 

“Do I want to know what happened?”

Fionn kneels down in front of him and bats his hands away before Harry can answer. He peels the bandaid back gently and winces at the reddened skin and pinpricks of blood underneath.

“Might’ve borrowed your bike,” Harry starts, and sucks in a breath when Fionn removes the band aid the rest of the way, “and taken a slight detour to my knees on the way back from the bakery.”

Fionn snorts out a laugh and lets his head rest on Harry’s other thigh. His skin’s still cold from outside and all Fionn wants to do is get him back in bed. 

“That’s usually a nice picture,” Fionn says, righting himself and getting to work cleaning up Harry’s knee. 

Harry’s grinning when Fionn looks up at him despite the fact that Fionn’s just swabbed his knee with rubbing alcohol. 

“‘M happy to recreate it for you any time babe,” Harry says, and Fionn rolls his eyes but he can’t stop a smile from spreading across his face. 

He digs through Harry’s medicine cabinet for the nice fabric band aids they’d picked up when Harry had a break from tour early on, his fingers covered in blisters from playing guitar. 

“This’ll stay a bit better,” he says, pressing the band aid into place and standing back up. 

The borrowed jumper’s stretched over Harry’s shoulders and it makes Fionn’s insides feel funny, like it’s some kind of metaphor for their life, Harry slightly too big for it but somehow fitting in anyway.   
“Thanks,” Fionn croaks, slipping his hands into the pockets of his joggers.

Harry blinks up at him and pulls off the beanie that’s almost definitely Tom’s. Fionn makes a mental note to steal it back.

“The croissants are probably cold by now,” he says, “but I can heat them back up in the oven. Quite handy with a pastry.”

Fionn groans and lets Harry tug him in by the hips, his fingers warm and slipping up under the hem of Fionn’s t-shirt. 

“You were sixteen and you worked the register, I don’t think that qualifies you as handy with a pastry.”

Harry just rolls his eyes and pulls at Fionn until he’s managed to awkwardly straddle Harry’s lap.

“Don’t doubt my prowess,” he whispers, his face looming large in Fionn’s field of vision before he moves in and kisses him.

Fionn holds back because he’s pretty sure his mouth tastes like red wine death, but Harry’s insistent, whining when Fionn won’t part his lips.

“Hey,” Fionn says, pulling back and avoiding Harry’s lips, “I should brush my teeth so I don’t kill you.”

Harry pouts and digs his fingernails into Fionn’s hips, sliding him closer so they’re pressed chest to chest. 

“All right,” he says, leaning in to press his mouth against Fionn’s again, “I’ll go and get comfy. Have to rest up and recover from my injuries.”

Fionn laughs and slides off of his lap, immediately missing the warmth of Harry’s body. 

“Go on then,” he says when he’s got his toothbrush in his mouth and Harry’s still sitting there watching him intently, chin propped up on his uninjured knee. 

Harry grins at him, eyes crinkling, then heaves himself up and presses a kiss to the back of Fionn’s neck on his way out, easy as anything. Fionn gets caught up looking at himself in the mirror for a second. The circles under his eyes and how his hair dried funny because he’d taken a shower right before passing out the night before. His threadbare t-shirt and worn gray joggers. And, he thinks, tearing his eyes away from his reflection and spitting in the sink, Harry in his bed. 

Harry’s stretched out and still clothed on top of Fionn’s veritable mountain of blankets when he pads back in. Fionn just stands and watches from the doorway for a second, lets his eyes catch on the way his jumper is stretched across Harry’s shoulders. It looks good on him, even though Fionn knows he’s biased where Harry is concerned. There’s a stray leaf stuck to the back of it, probably from Harry’s fall, and it makes Fionn’s heart clench a little even though Harry’s fine. 

“I can feel you staring,” Harry says, voice muffled by pillows, “don’t get me wrong, I like it, but I’d like it better if you’d get in bed with me.”

Fionn rolls his eyes even though he knows Harry can’t see him and climbs back into bed, swings a leg over Harry’s hips and lays himself out, lining up their bodies and tucking his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. 

“Thanks,” he says, his lips pressing against the skin of Harry’s neck, still slightly cool from his bike ride.

“Mmm,” Harry hums in response, and Fionn lifts his head up so he can look at Harry’s face pressed into the pillow. 

His eyes are closed and his eyelashes are a dark smudge this close, and Fionn wants to curl up on the small of Harry’s back and never move again, as impractical and uncomfortable as it would be.

He heaves himself up instead, planks above Harry’s body and presses a biting kiss into his neck before he makes his way down, nerves buzzing under his skin. Harry has too much clothing on for once in his life, but Fionn keeps moving, nosing along the bumps of Harry’s spine through the thin jumper and rucking it up just enough to show a thin strip of skin when he gets to Harry’s hips. 

Harry hums deep and rumbly into the pillow and Fionn can feel him relax when he starts sucking at the skin above the waistband of his pants. His hands feel a little shaky when he eases Harry’s pants down even though he’s done this before. Harry must’ve clocked what Fionn has in mind by now but the only thing that’s changed is his breathing quickening. Even his hips are mostly still, just shifting slightly so Fionn can tug his pants down past the curve of his ass.

Fionn gets nervous every time he does this, always remembers the first time Harry did it for him because he didn’t see it coming at all. Not that he didn’t know it was a thing, obviously, but just--just that he’d ever feel comfortable enough with someone to experience it. Harry’s different, though, and Fionn can’t get over the way Harry makes him want to try everything.

He bites softly at the curve of Harry’s ass and smiles into his skin when he feels Harry’s hips twitch against the bed and hears Harry’s groan of realization.

“Fuck,” he breathes out when Fionn opens him up and kisses him softly, thumbs digging into his skin and hoping his fingernails leave red half moons in Harry’s skin.

It’s easy to lose himself to it, the heat of Harry’s skin and the way he twitches under Fionn’s tongue, torn between rubbing himself off against the mattress and pushing back against Fionn’s mouth. He’s out of breath when he pulls back, Harry moving with disjointed rhythm against the mattress, and Fionn knows he’s about to make an absolute mess of the sheets. 

“Please,” Harry whines, and Fionn sucks in a breath and reaches down to palm his own cock, hard and leaking in his sweatpants. 

“So polite,” Fionn says, his voice raspy. 

Harry just whines again, high and wordless, and Fionn takes pity on him, sucks a finger into his mouth and then works it inside, kissing the bare skin at the base of Harry’s spine, coordinating his movements with the movement of Harry’s hips. He moves back when Harry’s rhythm falls apart and curls his finger, biting down on a grin when Harry groans and surges forward against the mattress before his body goes still.

“Getting pretty good at that,” Harry says after a second, his voice still muffled by the pillow. 

“Had an all right teacher, I guess,” Fionn says, palming himself again and exhales sharply.

“C’mon,” Harry says, reaching back awkwardly to pat his own ass, “get yourself off, then.”

Fionn snorts.

“Gonna leave all the work to me, hm?”

Harry doesn’t say anything but Fionn can see him grinning, eyes still closed when he straddles Harry’s hips again and then lays himself out, his cock fitting against Harry’s ass. It’s almost too much, even through the damp fabric of Fionn’s pants. He knows Harry’s cock is probably still sensitive, but he can’t stop the movement of his hips from picking up. Harry just hums and takes it, his body warm and yielding against Fionn’s, and that’s enough for Fionn to come, his skin hot and buzzing when he slicks up his pants and the rocking of his hips slows.

He lets his head drop to the nape of Harry’s neck, breathes in the smell of Harry’s skin and his laundry detergent. He knows if he lets his eyes close he’ll end up sleeping for another three hours, but he can’t help it, the soft pattern of Harry’s breathing lulling him back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here](http://polaroidgirlfriend.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
